th these foreigners
you don't feel they're gentlemen. I don't know what it is, but there's
something, you understand, don't you? And I do like a man to be a
gentleman. I thank God I'm an Englishman!'

IV

Now, it chanced one day that the senior partner of the firm was summoned
to serve on a jury at a coroner's inquest, and Mr Clinton, furnished
with the excuse that Mr Haynes was out of town, was told to go in his
stead. Mr Clinton had never performed that part of a citizen's duties,
for on becoming a householder he had hit upon the expedient of being
summoned for his rates, so that his name should be struck off the
coroner's list; he was very indifferent to the implied dishonour. It was
with some curiosity, therefore, that he repaired to the court on the
morning of the inquest.

The weather was cold and grey, and a drizzling rain was falling. Mr
Clinton did not take a 'bus, since by walking he could put in his pocket
the threepence which he meant to charge the firm for his fare. The
streets were wet and muddy, and people walked close against the houses
to avoid the splash of passing vehicles. Mr Clinton thought of the
jocose solicitor who was in the habit of taking an articled clerk with
him on muddy days, to walk on the outside of the street and protect his
master from the flying mud. The story particularly appealed to Mr
Clinton; that solicitor must have been a fine man of business. As he
walked leisurely along under his umbrella, Mr Clinton looked without
envy upon the city men who drove along in hansoms.

'Some of us,' he said, 'are born great, others achieve greatness. A man
like that'--he pointed with his mind's finger at a passing alderman--'a
man like that can go about in 'is carriage and nobody can say anything
against it. 'E's worked 'imself up from the bottom.'

But when he came down Parliament Street to Westminster Abbey he felt a
different atmosphere, and he was roused to Jeremiac indignation at the
sight, in a passing cab, of a gilded youth in an opera hat, with his
coat buttoned up to hide his dress clothes.

'That's the sort of young feller I can't abide,' said Mr Clinton. 'And
if I was a member of Parliament I'd stop it. That's what comes of 'aving
too much money and nothing to do. If I was a member of the aristocracy
I'd give my sons five years in an accountant's office. There's nothing
like a sound business training for making a man.' He paused in the road
and waved his disengaged hand. 'Now,